


Recommended

by meeva



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Clint Barton, Bromance, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-11 15:34:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15318624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meeva/pseuds/meeva
Summary: Tony Stark is gay. That's why Fury sends Clint Barton instead of Natasha Romanov to be Tony's personal assistant.Everything changes from there.





	1. Prelude

Clint studies the folder Hill handed him. This is one of the easier infiltration missions that he's been assigned. Granted, it came with a 2 hour lecture by Phil on the Avengers Initiative and how Clint better not fuck this up, but there's no kidnapping, no assassination, and no long-term undercover in a foreign country required. Still, Phil made it clear that this mission is one of those super-top-secret-this-never-existed-even-in-Shield-records type of mission and told Clint in no uncertain terms that if he messes this up, Phil would be the one to handle Clint's failure. 

That scares the shit out of Clint. 

Clint has a photoshoot in an hour to help establish his cover as a former underwear model (and wasn't that going to be fun, he is so going to send copies to Laura) before he has to debrief five agents who just returned from Italy. Phil had said that this would be a good way for Clint to dust off his Italian, but Clint is 99% sure that Phil's just reinforcing how much paperwork would come Clint's way if he screws this up. It's eight on a Monday morning and the photoshoot should only take thirty minutes, but the debriefs will take up the rest of the week, and that's if Clint's lucky. 

\------

Clint isn't lucky. The debriefs take two weeks after one of the agents confesses she went from a loyal agent to a double agent to a triple agent who's "loyal to Shield to the end, Agent Barton, I swear!"

The paperwork for that one agent alone takes another week. Who the fuck even makes these forms, because there's twenty alone just for different scenarios where people betray Shield then go back to Shield. Clint purposefully doesn't think about what that means about Shield as an organization. 

By the time Clint files the last form late Friday afternoon, he's ready to commit homicide. It's a relief when he hears a knock on his office door. "Come in," Clint says as he closes his laptop with far more force than necessary. 

The door opens and Phil enters the cramped space. He looks at the empty take-out boxes cluttering Clint's desk and gives Clint a faintly disapproving look that Clint easily ignores.

"We've finished creating your cover story. I know it took longer than normal, but it was difficult to establish a cover when Stark's people are going to be doing the background check. Your resume was impressive enough to skip to the final round of interviews. You have an eleven'o'clock interview with Virginia Potts next Tuesday at Stark headquarters. Arrive twenty minutes early." Phil hands over a set of keys to Clint. "As for your living arrangements, you now have a small studio apartment one block away that's already been furnished with the proper attire. You also are the proud owner of a Prius."

"A what."

"If it makes you feel better, you don't actually own it. Shield does. Let me remind you that this a company car and any damage to it -"

"Comes out of my paycheck, I know." Clint rolls his eyes. As if he was the one who constantly damaged the cars Phil gave them. That was all Natasha. "But why a Prius?"

"Because Clark Benson cares about the environment," Phil deadpans, and he hands over the Toyota keychain with car and apartment keys attached. Clint grimaces but pockets them without further comment. 

Phil stays and chats for a while. Apparently Natasha is off doing some work for Fury in the Artic and damn, at least Clint's not out there freezing his balls off. Phil's going to Georgia - "The country, not the state, Barton" - in a few days to salvage a sensitive mission that went SNAFU. Clint makes a mental note to keep the time difference in mind for when he reports back to Phil. Hill still hasn't figured out that it was Clint who added pepper to all of her coffee grounds, and Clint fishes out a twenty for Phil's continued silence on the matter. 

\-------

Clint is sitting outside of Ms. Potts' office by 10:40 am. The suits at his apartment didn't quite fit, and even though he put in a rush order for tailoring, he's stuck wearing a suit jacket that's slightly too big in the shoulders and pants that are so tight in the crotch that Clint's worried for his future children. He's wearing the brightest blue button-down he could find to try to draw attention to that instead. When Ms. Potts pokes her head out her door, her sharp look-over gives Clint a sinking feeling that his fashion plan failed. He adjusts his grey tie nervously, Phil's vague threats echoing in his mind. Fuck, this was a job for Natasha. Why was Clint here?

"Mr. Benson? I'm Virgina Potts. Come on in." 

Clint stands. Time to ace an interview.


	2. Act One

Clint gets back to his apartment early afternoon and heads straight for the six-pack he's got chilling in the fridge. It turns out that Phil is a dirty liar and Clint has another round of interviews - well, impressions, really. If it turns out to be anything like the interview he just had, Clint is seriously considering retiring. Virginia Potts could give Natasha a run for her money in the interrogation room. He spent the entire time talking until his throat was completely dry and on five separate occasions, he was sure Potts had figured out his cover. It wasn't until 90 minutes had past that Potts cracked her first smile and told Clint that he made it through to the real final round.

Clint pops the cap off of the cheap-ass beer he picked up last night and drinks deeply. The "final round" happens tomorrow at any time Stark or Potts pleased. 

"The last thing to do is check your compatibility with Tony," Potts had said. She must have read some of Clint's confusion because she clarified, "We have to see if you're able to... keep up with Tony. He doesn't work normal hours, he's demanding, and he expects you to be able to complete the impossible at a moment's notice and in a short period of time." 

Aww. That description of Tony Stark kind of reminds him of Laura back in the day. Except Laura is his gorgeous angel that Clint doesn't honestly deserve and he would never, ever say anything like that out loud. Clint should probably give Laura a call later after the kids get home from daycare. Maybe they could Skype. 

Clint is finishing off the last of his beer when his phone beeps. It's an email from Hill.

_Barton,_

__

__

_I've reviewed the debriefs you did for the Italian agents. I've noticed a few small errors. Please resubmit the following forms by noon tomorrow to the Records Department."_

There's no signature, but four attachments. 

They're zip files. 

Clint groans. 

\-----

Around 4 am, that bastard Phil calls and explains that Maria fucking Hill gave him two hundred dollars to find out who kept messing with her coffee. ("Really, Barton, it was twenty dollars against two hundred. Play a little more seriously next time.") Who the fuck spends two hundred dollars on figuring out a harmless little prank? Clint isn't the greatest at math, but even he knows two hundred dollars equals a shit ton of non-pepper coffee. 

Clint completes the paperwork at the cost of talking to his lovely wife for only 25 minutes and getting no rest at all. By the time Ms. Potts calls him at eleven, he's in a foul mood. 

"Mr. Benson? This is Virginia Potts. Mr. Stark will see you today. A driver will pick you up from your residence in fifteen minutes."

Clint puts on his best customer service voice. "Sounds great, but I live literally a block away from headquarters. I can walk."

"Security reasons," is the only answer he gets before Ms. Potts hangs up. Clint swears for a minute straight. 

The next fourteen minutes pass in a blur as Clint rushes downstairs to grab his tailored suits from down the street, jump in the shower, and shave. The drive is stupidly short and Clint tries to discreetly blow-dry his hair with his hands in the elevator. He arrives on the top floor without much success, but that's okay. At least his suit fits him today.

The CEO's office is right in front of the elevator exit and Clint thinks he must be on the wrong floor when the name "Virginia Potts" glares back at him. He turns to check which floor he's on when the smell hits him. It's sweat, and Clint knows that smell very, very well, but something about it reminds Clint more of when his kids are feverish and puking. It's sweat with gross sweat, and it's coming from his left. 

"Dude, really?" is out of his mouth before he can stop it, even as he turns to face the offender. "It's called showerrrrr- hello Mr. Stark looking great today as always how may I assist you."

Aw shit. First impressions are so important and Clint's really having an off-mission here. Honestly, Stark's looking pretty wiped and his gym shirt is almost completely soaked through, but Clint's good at lying. The tell-tale light of the arc reactor shines through the damp material and Clint suddenly feels a little awkward and overdressed even though Stark should be the one in business formal. 

"It's a normal state of being for me. Being great, that is," Stark says, and carefully looks Clint over not unlike how Potts did the other day. "Pepper!" 

It's not quite a shout, but it serves its purpose as Virginia Potts, tablet tucked under her arm, opens the CEO office door and gives Stark the stink eye. Stark brushes past Clint to address Potts. "That's my new assistant, boss. He tells it like it is."

"Tony, there are two other excellent candidates arriving within the hour, and I gave you and Happy a two hour warning, why haven't you showered?" 

"I don't have time to shower," Stark says, and grabs Potts' tablet, ignoring her protest. "You, what's your name?"

Clint assumes Stark means him. "Clark Benson, sir."

"Oo, already starting with the sir-ring. Clark, make a note that I didn't have time to shower. It's B-E-N-S-E-N?"

"Actually, sir, it's B-E-N-S-O-N," Clint corrects.

"Tony, I sent you the candidate profiles last night. Didn't you read them?" Ms. Potts' tone of voice makes it clear that she already knows the answer to her question. 

"Nope. Oops, it's Benson with an 'o', not an 'e'. I figured it out. Clark H. Benson. He's fluent in Russian, Italian, Spanish, and French. Very impressive."

"Yes," Ms. Potts says slowly. "I screened the candidates myself, they are all impressive, Tony, which is why you need to meet more than one."

Clint raises a hand. "My French accent is really bad, so I try to avoid the French."

Tony hums absentmindedly, scrolling through the tablet, and Clint's starting to get the feeling that he's not a part of this conversation at all. "Pepper, did you model in Milan? 'Cause Clark modelled in Milan. Oo, lingerie modeling. Tough business." 

"Yes sir," Clint jumps in. "It's pretty hard." Stark and Potts both stare at him with wide eyes, choosing at the worst time to remember that Clint's not invisible, before Stark grins.

"I need him. He's got everything that I need," Stark pleads.

Potts has a very familiar expression on her face. It's the same expression Clint sees on Phil every time Clint personally handles a mission. "Well," she says, and both Clint and Tony know that Tony's won. (It's not because Tony's being a lil' shit, but because Potts clearly has reached her limits on how many fucks she gives about this particular battle.)

\-----

Clint isn't liking this mission anymore. It's only fun when he slips up and snarks, which Stark finds hilarious, but Stark treats him like an assistant and they have a strictly professional relationship. It's a problem because Clint isn't just an assistant, he's a goddamn honeypot spy out to infiltrate and assess Stark and Stark is clearly Not Interested. Clint's absolutely devoted to his goddess of a wife so he's also Not Interested, but some part of his ego is a little hurt that Clark Benson isn't hot enough for Tony Stark.

Clint's first written report happens after Monaco and has very few conclusions. It's valuable insight to learn that Stark literally gave his company to his executive secretary/friend, but Clint isn't sure of what to make of it. Stark is known for his impulse behavior, but this seems a little more reckless than usual. Clint's done his research and wow, Potts graduated with a degree in English. If companies could be gifts, Stark's given his friend a double-edged sword by not giving her more credentials than "She put up with my shit for years."

Clint puts in a request to see if Stark's given anything else away before moving onto detailing the rest of his report. 

Monaco was awful. First, Clint had to field a bunch of French paparazzi and journalists who were not afraid to make fun of Clint's French. Then, the race started and Clint had to run outside to get the bodyguard ("Please, call me Happy"), which meant he couldn't watch the start of the race. Finally, when Stark, Happy, and Potts were attacked, Clint a) couldn't blow his cover and had to watch the action instead, and b) the race got cancelled and everyone had to go home before he could try to get some autographs. 

Potts asked Clint to help out with damage control, so Clint lost sight of Stark immediately after the incident for over three hours. Thankfully, when Phil gets the report, he doesn't chew Clint out for not keeping his eyes on the target at a crucial moment. 

"It's Stark," Phil says by way of explanation when Clint calls him. "There's only so much you can do, Clint."

Clint can't help but miss Natasha right now. She probably would have been much better at deflecting Potts and following Stark. Clint's specialty is stealth, not infiltration. He resolves to not let Stark out of his sight again.

\----

Clint's with Potts at Stark's Malibu mansion for the next three days. It's good because he knows that Stark isn't leaving the premise, but it's bad because he has to do work that doesn't involve crawling through air vents and surprising people with an arrow to the throat. He feels even worse for Potts, though. The woman is running a multi-billion dollar company and also personally handling the press. He thought that the new organizations would have stopped after the first, but that's not the way the news cycle works. 

Stark pops in and out with generally unhelpful suggestions and quotes but makes sure that Clint and Potts have a steady supply of coffee and baked goods so that’s nice. On the third day, Stark wanders into the living room where they've established their base of media operations looking a bit less like he's going to be an asshole and a bit more like a normal human. 

"I don't want to be disturbed," Stark orders, and that sounds like Stark is about to do something that Clint should probably know about. 

Clint stands up from where he and Potts are discussing which news organizations to call first and quickly falls in step right behind Stark.There's a rash on the back of Stark's neck and Clint vaguely worries if it's contagious. Stark stops, turns, and gives Clint a raised eyebrow.

"Do I need to repeat myself?"

"No sir," Clint says.

Stark takes a step. So does Clint.

"Clark, you're as cute as a button, but I mean it when I said -"

"-that you didn't want to be disturbed, yessir, I won't disturb you, sir." Clint puts on his best earnest look. 

Stark gives a small sigh and his shoulders slightly slump for the briefest of moments before he straightens. Clint hasn't seen the man show any kind of vulnerability in his body language before now and he's not about to stop now that he's onto something. Stark opens his mouth, probably to deflect or tell Clint to firmly go away, but Clint speaks faster.

"Sir, you have a press conference at 2pm, I have the talking points for you to review. And by review, I mean we need to run a mock-press conference for you to practice."

Stark looks thrown off. "Press conference? We didn't schedule a press conference for today. Pepper hates it when I do press conferences. Peps?" He looks over Clint's shoulder but Clint can hear that Potts is on the phone, unable to call Clint's bluff.

"Yes, Mr. Stark. Ms. Potts is the CEO of Stark Industries and will need to return to headquarters in an hour." Clint's totally bullshitting but Stark looks a little taken aback at that reminder that Potts is now CEO. Clint pushes further. "As CEO, Ms. Potts cannot remain here and run your public relations operation. That's my job, and as your assistant, I'm to let you know that you have a press conference in," Clint checks his phone, "Five hours at the Stark Industries Los Angeles location." 

Stark scratches the back of his neck. The worry at the back of Clint's mind comes back, and suddenly Clint remembers the sick-gross-sweat smell from last week. 

"Is that ringworm?" Clint bursts out, forgetting to add on the sir or the deferential tone.

Stark's hand shoots back to his side. "Road rash, mon petite. Nothing to worry about."

Clint narrows his eyes. His son brought home ringworm from kindergarten when Clint was taking paternity leave to be with Laura and their newborn. Not only did Clint get infected, Laura and the baby had to go stay with her parents while Clint disinfected the house and took care of a sick, upset, and itchy five-year-old. Not fun. There is no way in hell that's road rash, and Clint isn't taking any chances.

"Did someone just say ringworm?"Potts is off the phone and looking like a mix between being relieved and being horrified. "Tony, I didn't realize you were sick, I'm so sorry!" Then, “We can spin this as a defense to the media.”

Stark bristles. "It's not ringworm, I don’t need to defend myself, and you," he points to Clint and huh, Stark looks kinda pissed, "You are being very disturbing right now. I'm disturbed."

Clint thinks he might have overstepped somewhere. "Ms. Potts, I was mistaken." Then Clint remembers his current lie. "Mr. Stark is perfectly healthy and willing to do a press conference at 2pm."

Stark sputters. 

"That's very sweet of you Clark, but never believe Tony if he says he isn't sick and don't let him do press conferences. JARVIS, is Tony sick?" Potts calls from the background.

"I don't have ringworm -"

"Sir does not have ringworm, Ms. Potts."

Stark looks very smug before Clint points out the lie of omission. "Mr. JARVIS, Ms. Potts didn't ask about ringworm, she asked if Mr. Stark was sick."

Things escalate quickly from there.

"That is private information -"

"Sir does not have ringworm and I'm afraid -"

"It's not private if it's contagious -"

"JARVIS, I need a clear answer-"

"JARVIS, don't answer that -"

"Ringworm isn't the only type of rash out there -"

“Tony this is important, if you're sick -”

“I sign your paychecks, Clark -” 

“Ms. Potts, I’m afraid that’s personal information -”

"What's going on here?"

A new voice causes everyone, including Jarvis, to shut up as Colonel James Rhodes walks into Stark's living room. Clint recognizes him right away from his briefing and a tension that Clint hadn’t known even existed in Stark leaves. Suddenly Stark looks genuinely excited and playful, focusing solely on Rhodes, and Clint wonders if this is why Stark isn’t doing more than the occasional pass at him. (Rhodes is good looking for a guy, Clint supposes, but no one can hold a match to Laura’s hazel eyes and long brown hair.)

“Rhodey-bear!” 

Stark crosses the room and bro-hugs the newcomer. Clint watches carefully. Clearly the two aren’t involved, at least right now. Stark’s never been shy about showing affection to his boytoys, and this isn’t the most affectionate hug out there. 

“I’ve been on the phone with the National Guard all day,” Rhodes says as he returns the hug. “Tony, they’re after your suits.”

Potts comes over and rests a hand on Stark’s shoulder. “Rhodey, what do you mean the National Guard is after the suits?” Clint can see Potts’ hand is inching towards Stark’s neck, probably to check out the rash and check his temperature. More power to her, because Shield doesn’t pay Clint enough to do that. 

Clint has a feeling this is a Serious Conversation that doesn’t involve his participation. Clint’s more used to eavesdropping to these types of conversations by perching overhead in rafters or air vents. He slinks over to a cushy armchair that’s facing away from where the others are standing and tries to disappear into it. It’s not that difficult, the armchair is pleasantly squishy. Out of sight, out of mind, after all, and if Rhodes is going to ignore him, well, that just gives Clint a chance to listen in. 

“Hey Pepper, looking good. I meant exactly what I said. Tony, they’re not interested in this media run-around you’re doing. You said no one would possess this technology for 20 years, and now someone had it yesterday.”

“Well, actually they had it four days ago, not yesterday.”

“Tony!” Rhodes sounds extremely frustrated. “This is serious! They’re sick of the games and they’re going to take your suits!” 

There’s a pause, and Clint almost misses the quiet, apologetic, “Are you okay?” from Rhodes that follows the outburst. 

“He might be sick,” Potts says. “He’s running a little on the warm side and Clark spotted a rash on his neck.”

“I’m perfectly healthy,” Stark starts. 

“Clark?” Rhodes asks. 

That’s Clint’s cue. He snags a cherry danish off the table and pops up over the chair. “Clark Benson, present and accounted for,” he says, raising his hand as if he were back in grade school. “Just took a quick break to eat something.”

“Clark’s the new assistant,” Potts says by way of explanation.

“Not for long,” Stark mutters darkly. Oh shit, Clint’s really fucked this up. “He’s very disturbing. Rhodey, honey, let’s go downstairs, I need to show you something cool.”

“Nice to meet you, Clark,” Rhodes says and follows Stark downstairs. This time Clint doesn’t attempt to follow. His job is now on shaky grounds and he doesn’t want to risk it. 

Potts returns and plops down on the couch with a sigh. “Clark, please call the National Guard’s press office.”

“Yes, ma’am,” says Clint. He reaches for the phone and pauses. “Ms. Potts, I may have overstepped my boundaries a little here -”

“You’re not overstepping anything at all,” Potts interrupts. “Tony’s not good at caring for his own health sometimes, and I’m happy you’re concerned for him. There’s not a lot of people in Tony’s corner.” She gives Clint a tired smile and Clint feels like an asshole because he wasn’t worried about Stark, he was worried about contamination from Stark. He bites back his original comment of telling Potts to go wash her hand. Instead, he shrugs.

“Well, I’m not sure he appreciated it.”

“I’m CEO,” Potts reminds Clint. “Tony was wrong. He doesn’t sign your paychecks, I do, and you’ve been extremely valuable the past few days.” Potts holds out a hand, and gross, it’s the one that she used to check Stark’s temperature. “Please,” she says, “Call me Pepper.”

Shiiiiiit. Clint gingerly takes Potts -- Pepper’s hand in his own. “Sure thing, Pepper.” Yay, acceptance. He returns her smile and ends the handshake as soon as politely acceptable. Pepper looks a little happier at that and her smile widens. She’s got a very pretty smile, and Clint thinks that if Stark were straight, he totally would have gone for Pepper. Clint isn’t sure how that one would have worked out since Potts seems to be busy cleaning up after Stark 24/7, but that’s not really what Clint should be focusing on right now. 

“Do you think he’s sick?” Clint asks instead, dropping the formal tone. 

Pepper’s smile fades. “It’s possible. He was a little warm, but I didn’t get a very good look at his neck. It is his own personal medical information, but it would be nice if he and JARVIS would share it with us so we can work around it.”

Clint nods and makes a mental note to contact Phil about this new development. He also makes a second note to get some kale and orange juice to help ward off any sickness. 

“Well,” Pepper says, “We should really get back to work.” 

_We should really wash our hands,_ Clint thinks. Clint pulls up Stark’s schedule on his tablet. The press conference was a bluff, but it’s looking more and more like a good idea if the National Guard is hounding Stark for suits. The Expo is in just a few days, and Clint’s got over 50 items on his to-do list to make it work. 

“Stark isn’t necessarily bad at press conferences. I’m a big fan of the “I am Iron Man” one that he did.” Sure, Stark’s done numerous drunken interviews in the past, but that hasn’t happened for a while. “Why don’t you let me set up a press conference for Stark and you get back to New York for the Expo?”

Pepper makes a face. “It’s not that Tony is bad at handling the press, it’s that he’s not good about following prepared remarks. That means that Stark Industries has to adjust and defend whatever position he’s made on a whim. We’re already tied up with handling the fallout from Monaco, I don’t want to complicate the situation any further.”

Clint hums in understanding. “Got it. Anyway,” he waves a hand at the coffee, baked goods, and papers scattered on the coffee table. “I can take care of the National Guard, and I think it’s just Reuters left after that. I know the drill. If they want any more information from the usual spiel, I’ll tell them that we’ll fax it to them later. Or I can have JARVIS fax it to them, I think he’s heard us talk about the verbiage enough. Can JARVIS do that?”

It’s JARVIS who answers instead of Pepper. “That is possible, Mr. Benson, but I would need confirmation of which information to include for the final product.”

Clint gives a thumbs-up to the only visible camera in the room. (He’s found eleven other hidden cameras so far. Stark’s house is a fortress in disguise.)  
Pepper smiles again and picks up her expensive-looking handbag. Clint thinks it might be designer, but he’s not a fashion expert. “I’ll leave it in your capable hands, then, Mr. Benson,” she says, smiling again. “JARVIS, could you give Happy a call and let him know that I’m leaving early?”

“Of course, Ms. Potts. Shall I let Sir know you’re leaving?” 

“No, that’s okay. I’ll tell him myself.” Pepper descends into the basement, and Clint gets an idea. It’s probably a bad idea, but Phil’s in Thailand, Natasha’s in the Arctic with Fury, and there’s no way in hell he’s asking Hill to be his soundboard. 

“JARVIS, I’ve been stuck in this house for way too long. I’m going to take some of this work down to the beach for an hour. Can you tell Mr. Stark and Mr. Rhodey where to find me if they need me?”

“That’s within my capabilities, Mr. Benson. There is a path to the right of the house that leads down to the beach patio. Please enjoy the view.”

“Thank you, JARVIS,” Clint says, plans turning over in his head. “I think I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--------------------  
> AN: Q&A for the masses:
> 
> Q: Why isn't this a Clint/Tony fic? 
> 
> A: Statistically speaking, not many people fall under the LGBTQ+ umbrella. Clint's simply not one of them. He doesn't judge, but the point of this fic isn't about love. It's about a small change. Yes, Tony is gay, and no, I haven't really embellished that because Tony's romantic relationships aren't very prominent in IM2. I will touch on this more in the future.
> 
> Q: Isn't Clint a little bit out of character?
> 
> A: Probably, but there's not really a "Hawkeye" film or "Black Widow + Hawkeye" film to really go into the characters. I'm mostly rolling off of fanon character traits plus canon Laura Barton/Clint Barton love to be honest. 
> 
> Q: Why is Phil in Thailand?
> 
> A: That's classified.
> 
> Q: Are you going to end up pairing Tony with anyone?
> 
> A: Tony will get his love in the end, but that depends on where the story takes us. I will not add it as a tag, because I don't want to spoil it for you. <3


End file.
